


A Hobbit's Houseful

by wombats_echo



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Apartment AU, Because it's a sausagefest, F/M, Genderbend, Genderbending all over the place, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 15:40:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wombats_echo/pseuds/wombats_echo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a very modern hobbit has a family you can count in the dozens, one thinks they can maintain a household. Imagine Billa Baggins' surprise when she is given the task of housing thirteen men and women in her apartment home! It might need more than just a puff of the pipe and a cup of tea to keep her nerves in check.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hobbit's Houseful

In an apartment complex, there lived a hobbit. Whatever rumors you've heard about these places are false, that they're dirty and smelly and cockroaches and random stains litter every room. This was a hobbit's complex, so that means comfort. The very front door was a forest green with a bright and shiny yellow brass doorknob, and upon entering, one would be hit with the sensation of home. A long hallway greeted the visitor, and right at the front door was the entrance to where the hobbit lived. This hobbit lived in a very respectable fashion, with cushy chairs, shelves filled with books and a well-stocked pantry for when visitors ever wished to call. Normally, they would be relatives, but this particular hobbit would receive some rather unsual visitors very soon.

Now what is a hobbit? Hobbits are just like you and me, really, except a bit shorter and usually could be described as "adorably chubby". They simply hail from a town called Hobbitton, but an elevated sense of pride in never leaving their respective neighborhoods (under The Hill or over, or across The Water) left these people with an overwhelming desire to make a nickname for themselves. So "hobbit" stuck.

This hobbit in question was, by hobbit standards, very unusual. The landlord, or rather, land _lady_ , was a very well-to-do hobbit by the name of Billa Baggins, just over the age of thirty-five. She looked the part of an average hobbit lady, certainly, with her curled russet brown hair and round, merry face, along with her height and size, which were shorter and a bit pudgier, respectively. Unlike many of her female relatives, she remained unmarried, and content to live a cosy little life with her cat, Myrtle. And very unlike her relatives, she was not afraid of technology. Every morning, she would check her emails, and would read "underground stories" on her phone throughout her day. At this point in her life, she was quite content to have whatever privacy she could, for when she had to recommend one of these stories to her sweet old aunt Flora, she found herself understandably flustered. But her privacy had its downfalls.

Tenants came and went, but as time progressed and her family's visits (particularly those of a cousin of Billa's, by the name of Lobelia) it seemed that they came in quickly and left even faster. It wasn't that Billa Baggins was a bad landlady at all, she hosted Sunday brunches for her tenants and remained very helpful and jovial throughout the worst and most serious circumstances and maintained her lofts. But with her nasty cousin's visits, she started to get less and less people. And for a hobbit complex which had free Wi-Fi, she took a bit of offense.

One fine morning (although Billa would argue this), she sat with her morning tea on the front step in her dressing gown, her late father's very old-fashioned pipe in hand as she filed through her bills. She held the tip of said pipe between her teeth and muttered unhappily, while Myrtle curled up at her hip. "I don't know what we're going to do, old girl.. I really hope Lobelia doesn't grace us with her presence." Billa chuckled as her cat meowed, thinking that it was a response to her clever quip, taking in a puff of smoke and letting out a smoke ring. Of the talents hobbits prided themselves upon, smoking and creating large rings upon exhaling was one, and Billa sometimes outshined her male cousins. She nodded approvingly at her ring, and closed her eyes. So long as no mischief happens today, she thought to hersef, it will be a good one.

That is, until the smoke came blowing back into her face.

Billa coughed and spluttered, and rubbed her eyes so she could better see her attacker, and found herself greeted by a very tall, old man in a grey suit, coat and hat, with a beard to match. Kind blue eyes smiled down at her almost innocently. She did not recognize him at first glance, and blinked, "Good morning," and she half-meant it. It was warm for an autumn morning, and she didn't feel the need to wear a coat over her dressing gown. The leaves had begun to fall, sun shining merrily through the sparse trees, and she would have admired them more had her situation not been so dire.

“What do you mean?” said the old man. “Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?”

"All of them at once, I suppose. It's a warm and sunny day, and I don't see it getting too cold later on. If you have a pipe to smoke, then sit with me if you like." And with that, she blew a rather impressive smoke circle, sadly not as big as the one that blew back in her face, and smiled as it floated up into the air.

"Very pretty," remarked the old man, "But I haven't the time to smoke, I'm afraid. I am looking for a Miss Billa Baggins."

"Well, you seem to have found her." She paused, "Is this in reference to my Craigslist ad?"

"Indeed it is. I have a rather unhappily displaced group of people in need of a place to call home. You would have quite the household on your hands, Miss Baggins, but certainly, enough income to keep your home yours. And who knows, it could lead to quite the bit of an adventure." 

Billa stood and let out a chuckle, "I'm sorry, but I assure you, I am just a simple and quiet hobbit, with no use for adventures. Make you late for supper, you know!" The old man looked somewhat confused, so she picked up her mail, and her cat (who seemed very insistent on meeting this new stranger) and nodded at him, "Good morning."

“What a lot of things you do use Good morning for!” said he. “Now you mean that you want to get rid of me, and that it won’t be good till I move off.”

"Oh, no, that's not it at all! I, ah,  don't think I know your name."

The old man narrowed one eye in a squint for just a brief second, "You do in fact, although it has been many years, going on thirty, if I well imagine. I am Gandalf, and Gandalf means me." He looked rather disappointed, and muttered, "To think that I should have lived to be good-morninged by Belladonna Took’s daughter, as if I were advocating an unpleasant cause door to door."

Billa's eyes widened, "Oh, now I remember! You look just the same as you did, when you'd attend the Hobbitton town fair. I remember now, you always had such excellent stories and fireworks."

Gandalf's eyes twinkled as he smiled, "Well, I am glad you at least remember my fireworks and stories. That certainly brightens up this morning, doesn't it?" He turned to leave, "The group that I referred to are without internet at the moment, so I will have to alert them by word of mouth that you are still looking for tenants. Might it be alright to meet here tonight?"

Billa's head whirled at the thought of cooking for who knows how many guests (and probably their children), but she nodded numbly, "I'll need to visit the market, but that should be fine." Gandalf kindly tipped his hat and went on his merry way.

On her shoulder, Myrtle meowed and booped her owner's nose, so she quickly went back inside.

\--

As she was half-way through setting up for dinner, her first visitor arrived. Billa grumbled and took off her apron to flatten down the skirt of her dress. She didn't want to appear matronly,  so a simple long-sleeved dress with a shorter-than-she'd-like skirt in a deep green would do. She quickly exchanged her slippers for a pair of black ballet flats, and glared at the oven. With her luck, the roast would be just a bit too burned if she weren't careful.

Upon opening her door, she let out an unintended gasp. A tall man (or at least taller than she) with a large beard and several tattoos stood at her door. It was hard to tell whether or not he was displeased with her home, or simply with life itself, as he did not smile, but nodded at her, "Dwalin, at your service, Miss Baggins." He handed her his leather jacket and crossed to her dining room without another word, causing Billa to huff and hang the jacket with a little less grace than she would have preferred.

"Would you like some tea?" The man shook his head, and swallowed his bite of meat.

The bell rang a second time, and Billa scurried off to answer it. An older man introduced himself as Balin, and hung up his coat himself. Once again, she offered tea.

"No, thank you, dear. Some beer would suit me nicely, thank you." And with that, he too made his way to the dining room. She watched as both men embraced tightly, smiled at each other, and talked amongst themselves, calling each other "brother".

From then, more men showed up, some literally falling onto her front step once the door opened. Or, at least she thought most of them to be men. Many of them seemed either very androgynous or very masculine, but the one named Kili (or Fili..?) was definitely a girl. A very obnoxious girl, then, as she kicked dirt off of her beat-up Doc Martin's inside the house, and onto Billa's late mother's glorybox, which did nothing but frustrate our poor little hobbit. Quite a pair she and her big brother made, as she had messy dark hair, and a strong brow, while he had a more relaxed, responsible feel to him, despite possessing a rather remarkable set of blond dredlocks, tied back into a ponytail. Billa could only squeak when she saw her throw an arm around her big brother's shoulders (definitely Fili.. or Kili?, she thought) and plant a loud and obnoxious kiss to his mouth. The others groaned in exasperation, not disgust, and Billa could only help but wonder what she had gotten herself into, and decided firmly that if these guests were to become residents and save Bag-End from foreclosure, she would not judge. She only managed to get a small plate of food for herself, as these guests seemed to eat her out of house and home.

Upon thinking that phrase over, she giggled, then admonished herself. Mind out of the gutter, Billa.

Demands for tea, no, beer, no, coffee, not to much sugar and cream now dear, oh do you have any red wine lying around, and plenty of baked goods left her flustered, and once the throng seemed content at the moment, the poor hobbit put her face in her hands and let out a mix of a strangled whimper and a sigh. What was going to happen, she thought, how did this happen, and if there is a god, please let there be no more visitors. She wandered around her home, and found people scattered around her living room once most of the food was gone. Her pantry was bare, she thought lamentably, but her concerns turned to one of the guests using a doilie as a napkin. "Don't do that, that's not a napkin, it's a doilie!"

The man who almost dabbed it on his mouth shrugged, "It's already full'a holes."

She pinched the bridge of her nose, "It's crochet."

"Aye," came a voice from the corner, a woman with twin braids that stuck out on the sides of her head, "and a lovely game it is too, if ye have the balls for it!"

Billa's cheeks reddened as the group laughed, and wrung the doilie in her hands without realizing. She turned to snap at whoever was about to speak to her, and lo and behold, it turned out to be Gandalf. He smiled down at her, "Are you alright, Billa, dear?"

"No, I'm not, I don't understand why there are so many of them, and why they're eating me out of house and home!" She felt a tug on her sleeve, and looked to see a shy girl in her early twenties or possibly late teens and a large purple sweater that covered most of her hands.

"Miss Baggins, where should I put my plate?"

Before Billa had the chance to answer, a loud call of "Throw it over here, Ori!" came from the doorway to the kitchen. Of course, Kili. Billa watched plates spin and fly through the air, and could only manage squeals.

"Be careful-- don't do that, you'll blunt them!"

The woman with the braids, Bofur, grinned a crooked smile, "Ye hear that, lads? She says we'll blunt the knives!"

Billa thought she would faint when they started to fling her good china around, but her vertigo got worse when they actually started to  _sing._

_"Blunt the knives and bend the forks_

_Smash the bottles and burn the corks_

_Chip the glasses and crack the plates_

_That's what Billa Baggins hates!"_

When their song ended, Billa was face to face with a pile of clean dishes ready to be put away, and she gave up. She slumped into her father's armchair and threw an arm over her eyes. The doorbell rang again, and she waved for someone to answer it. Billa Baggins was thoroughly and absolutely done. Good night, good day, good morning and good  _bye._

Until she looked up and found the most brilliant pair of blue eyes she had ever seen.

He was gorgeous, there was no denying that, with sharp features, a rugged beard, and long black hair with streaks of grey (no, silver!) pulled back into a ponytail. He wore a motorcycle jacket, and Billa could have sworn she would be able to write a whole story about him just by looking at him. He was gorgeous, yes, but he didn't smile. In fact, he looked to be examining her. Finally, when he deemed her thoroughly examined, he looked up at Gandalf and spoke in a husky deep voice that almost distracted her from the insult of, "She seems more a housewife than a landlord, Gandalf."

Ouch.

Billa stood up and drew herself to her full height, "I beg your pardon, sir. And who are you to judge how I look, Mister Ponytail?" From behind her, she could hear Fili and Kili giggle.

He closed his eyes (she wasn't quite sure if he was offended or amused) and nodded, "Very well, Miss Baggins. My name is Thorin Oakenshield. I am sorry."

The room grew quiet. She looked around, and it appeared that every person except for her was surprised to see him actually apologize. She sniffed proudly and looked up at him. "Well... Good. I'm glad. Call me Billa." Something occurred to her, "Oh goodness, you haven't eaten yet, have you? I hope we still have food." Snickers followed her as she scurried off to the kitchen, and she was sure that Thorin had smirked at Gandalf just as she turned away.

\--

The evening ended rather smoothly, with each family (Billa found that many of them were cousins or siblings, or in the case of Thorin, Fili and Kili, uncle, nephew and niece) examining every apartment on their own, coming back to Billa's sitting room, filling out contracts, and leaving. By the time Fili and Kili finished their contracts, babbling away at how the accoustics would be perfect, Billa thought she might stab herself with a fork.

The last to leave was Thorin. She found him examining the flat just across the hall from hers, hands in his pockets as he examined the tall windows. She cleared her throat, "So, is it to your liking?"

He turned, and nodded, "You maintain a lovely home, Miss Baggins. Although the ceilings are very high in this flat, and with your permission, I might build a loft."

"We used to have a family friend come and go, and he was really tall, nearly seven foot. He hasn't visited in forever, but this was built for him. And sure, so long as you don't break everything, and call me Billa, not Miss Baggins."

Thorin cracked a smile, "Thank you, Billa. So, this was and still is your home? Hobbits don't like to relocate, now do they?"

She let out a huff, a little flustered and no of course not it wasn't about his smile or how he said her name, "It's not like I haven't wanted to travel or anything. I just haven't gotten around to it. And yeah, da had it built as a wedding gift for my mother. A home that was theirs and theirs alone, and kept them from living with relatives."

"So, you aren't close to your family?"

"Not really. I mean, when the young Brandybucks come over for tea, I don't mind, but some of my cousins are.. undesirable houseguests." At his snort, she continued, "If a gaudy woman a little younger than me but insistent that she's forever 29 ever drops by, that's Lobelia. Ignore everything she says." She muttered, "Rotten woman's had her eyes on Bag-End ever since my mother passed on, and jumped with joy when da died too. She thought I'd get married and move."

Thorin nodded, more like absorbing the information than agreeing, "Well, my friends and family are all very grateful that you did nothing of the sort."

Billa smiled. He walked over to her, "I'll take it."

And with that, he patted her shoulder and walked out.

Billa only had one word to sum it all up.

_Well._

**Author's Note:**

> Not much I can say, really. Yes, I know, first chapter of the Hobbit format, but I wanted to make it familiar and bring it to a modern setting. 
> 
> Also, I finally watched the Hobbit for the first time a few weeks ago and OH MY GOD. I JUST. I CAN'T. I read the book when I was about seven with my dad, so watching said movie made me have nostalgia feels. Augh.
> 
> By the way, I will continue my Cabin Pressure fic, it's not been completely abandoned, I'll just be focusing more on this one for the time being.


End file.
